Whisky echo bravo echo romeo

That’s me. My name, spelled out by the reservations clerk over the phone last week.

It could also be the Julie Roberts character line in Larry Crowne. Campus lush to Juliette luscious in two easy hours of movie magic.

Or, make it a writing challenge: use whisky-echo-bravo-echo-romeo in a song set in Dodge City 1848, sans cliché. Good luck.

I just got home from a short stay with kin who live in a seniors village. I’m glad for them for whom the stress of accomplishment has subsided. I’m saddened by the sure knowledge that we the boomer-gen will likely one day frame our wanderings in borders of sore knees, stiff backs and way too many keepsakes.

But consider 60 year old Diana Nyad, about to swim 60 consecutive hours in shark and jelly fish infested waters from Cuba to Florida. She has a different take on aging: “I want the candle to burn bright. We have changed a lot. Our parents’ generation, at 60, they considered that old age. I’m in the middle of middle age.” 

So what does whisky echo bravo echo romeo DO with her next few decades of relative freedom? From pain. From caution. From softly shrinking sidelines?

Well, there is this Muscle and Bone project. Walter and I sing songs of Dylan, voice of our generation and poster-bard for neither shy nor retiring. Our repertoire is a font of youth in a pond of plenty. Fond regards. Faithful friends. Eternal re-awakenings.

Spell check all of the above and you get Weber and Campbell hitting the trail. Two bravos, amigo, and no regrets.


Painting Maria Catharina Wiik, Out into the World